The Vigour Of Dibbley
by HungLikeARainbro
Summary: Rimmer has become Ace, Cat has become Duane, and they're about to die saving their friends. But they have a few spare moments to share.


**Emohawk – The Vigour of Dibbley**

 _If you're going to die, die in style._

Ace knew the ship was in trouble and he knew what the trouble was. He knew the solution and he knew how to execute it. He knew a lot of things, and that was what made him so amazing. He knew that too, but was far too modest to comment. Rimmer on the other hand… ugh. Glad he wasn't him just now.

First, protect Lister. Second, sacrifice self. Third, float around space until madness sets in or a nearby sun melts his lightbee.

There was a drawback to his cunning plan and it was currently changing into the least attractive clothes since the early 1990s. Poor Duane had no idea what was coming.

The door zipped shut behind Lister and Kryten. "What was that?"

"It's the hydraulic lock, sir. We're sealed in."

Lister pressed a few buttons, and looked back in exasperation. "It won't override!"

They gaped as the suavely smirking face of Ace Rimmer appeared upon the screen. "I've sealed you in the engine room, Dave.'Fraid me and the Cat have taken a bit of a nip from the Emohawk."

"You what? It's on board?"

"It's taken my bitterness and Cat's cool. He's in a hell of a shape. He's looking so geeky I don't think he could get into a science-fiction convention."

"The Emohawk is still on the loose?" Kryten exclaimed.

"I've pinned him down in the Ops room."

Lister grew frustrated. This was just typical of an Ace. Unnecessary heroism when numbers and teamwork would be best. But it was worth trying to persuade him. "Well, let us in. You need all the help you can get."

Ace was touched but remained cool. "No-one I'd rather have with me in a fracas, Dave. But you're the last human being alive, old love, and frankly you're just far too damned valuable to risk. Only one way to guarantee victory for the Home Eleven. I'm gonna open the airlock – suck the little perisher out into deep space."

"But sir, that would also kill you and the Cat!" Kryten was aghast.

"He won't suffer, Kryters. I'll snap his neck when he's not looking. Won't feel a thing. Believe me; he'd want it this way."

"But sir, if we could capture the creature we could extract the DNA strands and reinject you both and restore your personalities."

Lister nodded along with Kryten's appeal. One last shot…

Ace was as stubborn as he was handsome. "Too risky, Krytie. Any case, I don't think I could face becoming _him_ again. Everyone has his limits. Fellers, smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast."

"What a guy," Lister remarked as Ace left the screen.

"But sir, we've got to save them from themselves!"

"Right, Kryten. We've got to laser our way out of here. Any bazookoids?"

"Just the one, sir. And I'm afraid the battery is dead."

Lister groaned. "How long to charge it?"

"At least thirty minutes, sir."

"Smeg."

Ace waited patiently for Duane to appear, busying himself with the final preparations. He would lure Duane into the airlock, give his neck a quick twist, press the airlock release button and all would be over.

Duane bounded out from the flight deck. "Ready, old chum?" Ace asked.

"Just let me check. Thermos. Sandwiches. Corn plasters. Telephone money. Dandruff brush. Animal footprint chart and one triple-thick condom. You never know!"

Ace smiled at him fondly. "Okay, Duane, let's step into the airlock and get part two of the plan underway."

"Oh, what plan is this?"

"Just step in there Duane." Ace stepped aside as Duane hopped gaily into the airlock.

"So uh, what precisely is the plan, then?

"We're going on ahead. We're the scout party."

"I'm the scout party?!"

"If you could just stand over here," said Ace, cracking his knuckles.

Duane obliged and stood blissfully unaware as Ace reached towards the nape of his neck. Duane began to whistle nonchalantly and Ace faltered. "I can't do it," he sighed. "It'd be like garrotting Bambi."

"Can't do what?"

"Sit down, Duane."

Duane slumped to the floor.

"I meant on a chair, but that's fine, too."

Duane looked up innocently and Ace in turn groaned guiltily. "I lied to you, Dibbers. You see… the Emohawk is still here. And we've no way of knowing what it is. So I was going to open the airlock and suck it out into space. Unfortunately that means we go with it."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Duane looked thoughtful for a moment. "There's no heat in space is there?"

"Technically yes, but not to keep you warm."

"And there's no gravity?"

"Again technically yes, but not to keep you on the ground."

"And no oxygen either?"

Ace looked thoughtful also. "I'm going to go ahead and shorten this answer to 'no'."

"So my chances of survival are?" Duane continued inquiring.

"Pretty low. I'd say there's a 99.9993% chance you'll perish."

"Be straight with me, Mr. Ace. I can take it."

"Very well. 100%."

Duane burst into tears. Ace felt extremely bad by now. He took Duane by the hands and lifted him back onto his feet. Duane's sobbing reduced to mere snivels, but he remained distressed all the same. "I'm sorry, sport," Ace muttered. "Should've been honest with you from the get-go."

"It's okay, Mr. Ace. I mean, you're right. It's the only thing we can do. And if it means Mr. Dave and Kryten will live then…" He wiped his face into his large Doctor Who embroidered handkerchief (a Jon Pertwee edition). "Then I'll do it. I mean, it wouldn't be a great loss would it? Well, _you_ would be a great loss, but not me. Mr. Dave is cooler than I am. He deserves to live."

"Tish, pshaw and nonsense," snapped Ace. "Giving your life up for your friends is the most honourable thing one can do. You're the coolest guy I know."

Duane squeaked in delight. "Really? You think _I'm_ cool?"

"Are you kidding? You're very cool. Why, you're cooler than Shaft. If Shaft was here he'd say, 'Damn that guy is cool,' and he'd be pointing at you, Dibbers." Ace tossed his hair from his eyes as Duane squeaked again. Ace calmly regarded him. "Got any affairs you want to put in order before the Final Push?"

Duane looked around dismally, not sure if he had any affairs to begin with and – if he did – if they were in any kind of disorder. "Well, I guess I don't need any of my stuff. Bye lunchbox, bye animal footprint chart, bye corn plasters, bye…" His voice trailed off.

"What have you got there, Dibbers?"

"My triple-thick condom," Duane smiled. "Not that I'd have ever needed it. I'm so dorky I'd be turned down for a date to a Klingon-themed wedding. Who'd sleep with someone like me?"

"You really think that?" said Ace, barely phrasing it as a question. Duane shrugged.

"Well…" Ace said, taking the condom from Duane and twirling it about his fingers, "I wouldn't mind one last coital waltz before the big splat." Duane just looked at him seemingly even more confused. "I'm suggesting a Grecian encounter, Dibbers."

"A greasy what?"

"A physical tryst," he murmured, standing perhaps a little too close for Duane's comfort.

"Um… Mr. Ace?"

"Hmm?"

"Yo-you're str-stroking my Thermos."

"Dash it, and I thought you were pleased to see me." He moved forward and silenced any further protests from Duane with his lips upon his neck. "You can say no, if you like."

"I really don't think I can."

Ace smiled and licked his neck. "I'm flattered Duane, but I want this to be on your terms, old love."

A kiss revealed that despite the Stonehenge teeth, there was plenty of room for a tongue in Duane's mouth. The other man shuddered and the only sound that followed was the heavy clunk of his Thermos hitting the ground. Ace took this as a 'yes' and allowed his hands to roam lower.

Duane's chinos were already sperm-depletingly tight and right now there was a hard-on hindering their descent, but Ace shimmied them off like they were smothered in butter. Ace – through Rimmer – already knew what the Cat's downstairs looked like from having swapped bodies with him a long time ago. But he still quirked his eyebrow.

"Glad of this," he mumbled against the condom as he tore it open with his teeth, and then setting it aside for the moment. There was still some work to be done and Duane squeaked as Ace worked his hands down the barbed shaft, tonguing the head with each stroke.

There was a moment of panic. "I'm... I c-can't…"

"You'll do great, Dibbers. Besides," Ace smiled, "I'm a hologram. It's easier for me. Don't want you uncomfortable when you're dying, do we?" Before Duane even knew it, Ace had lost his own trousers and was perched on the edge of a crate, drawing their bodies together. "Ready, love?"

"That's really a question for you, Mr. Ace."

Ace leant into his ear, "Born ready, Duane."

Oh Cloister, did Ace really expect him to last when he kept saying stuff like that?

He watched timidly as Ace rolled the triple-thick condom onto him and placed his hand there, guiding him to – gulp – _that_ place. There was another kiss and Ace seized his rear and thrust him forward. Bad idea, but Ace wasn't about to admit that, and he had correctly predicted that it wouldn't matter to a hologram in the long run. Hooking his feet eagerly behind Duane, Ace encouraged him to move.

There wasn't much time to thoroughly revel in their coupling. As triple-thick as the condom was, and purposely built to alleviate feeling, it was all a bit much for Duane to handle. And damn, Ace was a hell of a guy, who could last? But it was a relief for Ace; he knew there was only a matter of time before Davey-boy and Krytie would try to join the heroism. Annoying.

They parted bodies, unwillingly, and Ace leant forward to taste Duane's Sensitive toothpaste one last time. Suddenly, Duane bent over with a gasp and the triple-thick condom plummeted down and inched away like a worm. "Was tha-"

They glanced at one another. Ace crumbled first. "He'll need more than a strong drink and a stroll to shake that off!" Ace laughed. Duane laughed too, though far more shyly.

"No point chasing. We'll have him soon." There was an awkard silence. Ace contemplated the situation carefully before gathering up their clothes so they could dress. "Would you like me to knock you out? Before we go."

"I'll be okay." Duane's teeth dazzled through his smiling lips. "You'll be there, right?"

"To the final curtain call." Ace tapped his nose fondly. "And good answer there, Dibbers. Told you you were cool."

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Starting to lose those cool-points there, Duane. But I suppose you've already held more than that this afternoon. What's a little hand-holding between friends." Their fingers laced together. "Ready?"

"Born ready!"

A small bang from the corner alerted them to visitors and they jumped apart. Lister and Kryten had come to join the kamikaze.

"Dave you crazy fool," Ace barked. "We're all set to save your bacon! There's no need for you to sling your lovespuds onto the barbeque!"

"Sir, our best chance is to tackle the Emohawk together."

And there really was no arguing with them. Together, the Boys from the Dwarf, they foiled the Emohawk. And the day was saved.

The only thing Lister didn't understand is why the Cat and Rimmer didn't speak to one another for weeks.

 **Author notes**

 **Sorry.**

 **This was based on an outtake where Ace compares killing Duane to killing Bambi which made me think that he viewed him as innocent and cute. I ran with it. Ran with it into a fucking wall.**

 **So sorry.**

 **I changed the dialogue between Ace/Duane in the airlock, possibly because I was following the outtakes version. Or because I fudged up. Anyway it's slightly different to the aired version.**

 **Really sorry.**

 **It started as a response to a rightful complaint that most slash in the fandom is Lister/Rimmer. Though they've been my OTP since the beginning and I don't like imagining anything else, the outtake gave me new and scary thoughts.**

 **Actually not sorry.**

 **Also comments are lovely, but if you could keep the Emohawk joke near the end a secret for other readers that would be great. Unless it's really obvious. Damn.**


End file.
